Truth of Consequences
by ScapeArtist
Summary: Hook and Charming share a beer after learning of Neal's fate. (Spoilers for "Quiet Minds"-you were warned!) This is part 3 of ? of my newly minted "Drinks with the Prince" series that includes "Monkey Conundrum" and "Liquid Courage")


"Here," David said, holding out a brown bottle by its neck to Hook. "Have a beer. Don't think I could stomach any rum today," he continued, a definite green tinge to his pallor at the mere thought of his drunken state of the previous night. Taking a seat on the couch next to the still leather-clad pirate, Hook tipped his head in thanks as he took the beer from David.

The two-of-late drinking companions each took a swig from their bottles in the quiet of the living room after having reattached the bathroom doors David and Emma kicked off their hinges earlier that day in pursuit of Zelena. Hook was grateful for some busy work to distract himself from what was going on inside his head, but now there was nothing left to do but sit and wait for the tide of his emotions threaten to rise over and drown him. The bottle was cold and heavy in Hook's hand, echoing what he was feeling in the aftermath of learning of Neal's death. He wasn't surprised it came to pass—hell, he told Neal he expected as much. Dark magic was nothing to be trifled with under any circumstance unless you were truly prepared to pay the price. But that knowledge didn't soften the blow of realizing, this time, he wouldn't be seeing the boy...Neal...again.

David cleared his throat and tilted his head with one of his patented faux-innocent looks on his face. "Although..." David pondered, looking closely at his beer bottle, "if this curse business continues, I'm definitely going to open a bar or liquor store and make a fortune," he said, pointing his bottle at Hook before tipping it back for another drink.

Hook shook his head and gave a half-hearted smile. "Quite the opportunist, Prince."

"Says the pirate with the flask in his back pocket."

"Guilty." Hook held up his bottle to David, looked him in the eyes, and said, "Cheers, mate."

Clinking his bottleneck to Hook's, David returned the salute, "Cheers."

They sat in silence again for a bit, each lost in thought, Snow having gone to her room to rest while they waited for Emma and Henry. The emotional toll of the afternoon had taken its physical toll on the heavily pregnant Snow, so David shooed her to bed for a respite, her hunting knife on the nightstand just in case.

Hook drank absently, and stared in the direction of the floor, looking at nothing in particular. He ignored David's surreptitious glances aimed his way, and was slow to pull out of his reverie when David asked, "You ok?"

The Prince looked genuinely concerned, which gave Hook pause, so he tried to ply him with a reassuring smile as he said with a nod, "I will be."

"I'm sorry," David said simply.

"As am I."

David, unable to hide his curiosity or settle into companionable silence after all, asked Hook, "Back in Neverland you said you spent time with Neal when he was a boy. How did that happen?"

Hook gave half a shrug. "Fate. Coincidence. I dunno. We plucked him out of the sea, a sodden, scrawny mess, and hid him from Pan until..." his words drifted off as he recalled their confrontation on the deck of the Jolly Roger those many, many years ago. The pain was sharp and raw then, but now it was a dull, anchor-heavy ache in his heart worn smooth by years of regret and sorrow over their parting of ways. Hook wondered if he would ever stop mourning the boy who slipped through his fingers.

"Until what?" David interrupted.

Hook's jaw clenched and relaxed as Hook found the words. "Until he figured out I was the pirate his mother ran off with, and the man who sought to kill his father in revenge for her death."

David nodded. "I can see where that might get awkward," he said, making Hook grin at the understatement.

"And violent," Hook added, widening his eyes and pressing his lips together briefly.

David kept on with his questions. "What was he like...Baelfire? When he wasn't angry with you, that is. I already get that part," David teased.

This was an easy question to answer and something that warmed Hook to talk about. His face softened as he answered David. "He was a spirited lad. Very resourceful and always curious. He probably never would have wanted to hear it, but he was very much like his mother," Hook said wistfully.

"In what way?"

"They both had a rare talent for drawing and rash decisions, for one," Hook said, chuckling to himself at the irony. Thinking for another moment, he went on, "They each made me want to be something other than just a pirate, even if it was fleeting. And now," he concluded, "they are both gone for good."

"Not entirely." David said, shaking his head. "Neal left a piece of himself behind—Henry," he reminded Hook.

"That he has," Hook agreed with a small smile. The lad was definitely his own person, but seeing either or both of Henry's parents in his bearing would always have its own magic for Hook. Even if they were never close, Henry would remain special in Hook's eyes.

"And what a gift it will be for Henry to have both you and Emma to tell him about his father," David said sincerely, giving Hook's arm a squeeze. Hook was momentarily heartened by this thought and hoped that Henry would be amenable to such a conversation someday.

"Aye. I hope so."

"Henry's not the only one," David said as Hook looked at him, perplexed. "Emma will need you too," he said with a surety Hook found impossible at the moment to match. David must have sensed Hook's skepticism because he persisted. "You both bonded with Neal in different ways, but that will no doubt be a comfort for her...that you knew him and cared about him, too. She'll need someone to talk to who will understand the good and bad parts of him." He shrugged and sighed before adding, "You know, when she's ready."

"Possibly," was all Hook was prepared to contemplate on that front.

A low buzz sounded and David put his beer down in exchange for his phone. He flipped up the screen and looked at it. "Speaking of my lovely daughter, she just texted me that she and Henry grabbed dinner and are on their way. I'm going to go wake up Snow. Hopefully she won't shank me."

"Good luck with that," Hook chuckled.

As David went up the stairs, Hook got up as well and rifled through the kitchen cabinets until he found what he needed. He gathered everything together just as he heard Emma and Henry outside the door. The crinkle of bags alerted him that they may not have enough free hands to open the door themselves, so he hurried over to do it for them. Upon greeting them, Mother and son looked weary—eyes with fading red rims and circles beneath them—walking through the doorway. He gave a slight bow to Henry and let him pass into the kitchen where he deposited the containers he was carrying on the counter, but stopped Emma in her tracks.

Hook held out his namesake to her and said, "I'll take those," nodding in the direction of the bags. Emma looked at him gratefully and hung the handles of the bags on his hook with relief, the strain falling from her shoulders. He handed her something in return. A glass of rum.

She looked from the glass to Hook's face and he tried to smile, but all he could see was his own grief mirrored in her face. She let out a small breath as she took the glass from his hand, their fingers brushing in the exchange.

She raised it and gazed at him, her features softening at his gesture. "Thank you, Killian. I needed this."

"I know," he said, the smile finally reaching his eyes.


End file.
